


Avengers Means Friendship

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Point Oh Oh Six [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Disney Califoria Adventure, Friendship, It's like a what if if the what if were therapy, Kid Fic, Like, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Parent Tony Stark, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, What if the Avengers actually liked each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: What if, from the word go, the Avengers actually — wait for it — liked and respected one another? This story follows the continuing adventures of the Avengers with good mental health. Tony's got a kid and a giant crush on Bruce and a healthy amount of self-confidence and love because Howard Stark didn't emotionally poison everyone around him. So, Tony can like himself, Aunt Peg, Edwin Anthony Stark and maintain many other healthy relationships.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Series: Point Oh Oh Six [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602685
Comments: 110
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with so many things in my life, the title is a joke about Josie and the Pussycats. 
> 
> I meant to have this up sooner, but, the epilepsy I have had well-controlled for over a decade is not even mostly controlled, and I'm on a drug that makes cognition hard. I finally got my shit together... kinda... I need to get off this bitch.

It had been four months in Edwin Tower. Three fun, easy months. They were still home in Malibu at least five days a month. He and Win went to Disneyland for his fifth birthday with just the aunts, uncles, Peter, Wade and Bruce. He wore a new hoop dress made by Peggy. Edwin met Lightning McQueen and got star struck. He stammered, “Hi, Lightening. I’m Win. I’m your biggest fan.”

The woman dressed like a gas station attendant crouched to be on Edwin’s level, “Do you want to come touch him?”

“Lightening, can I touch you?” asked Win, looking at the car.

The woman smiled, “He can’t speak, Win.”

Win bit at his lip, “But then he can’t consent. People have gotta say yes before you touch them.”

Tony was well aware that people were recording Win as much as they were recording Lightening. He was proud that this is what people would record and put on the internet. 

The woman smiled, “That is completely and totally true. You always have to check to see if people are okay with touching. But sometimes people can’t speak, so they have to have other ways of communicating. So, Lightening, why don’t you turn your wheels if it’s okay for Win to touch you?”

Lightening’s wheels turned, and Win practically squealed when he stroked Lightening, “You’re the best, Lightening. Can I kiss you?” The wheels turned, and Win kissed his bumper. 

Tony thought he might die from how cute it was, and he said, “Someone tell me they got that.” 

Another woman in a vest proclaiming her to be a Photopass Person said, “I got it.” She showed him on the screen of her camera.

“Beautiful, thank you. Can you fit us all in a photo?”

“Absolutely,” she said. 

They all gathered around the big stupid car. Tony would have rathered they had gotten a photo with Mickey. But, Edwin was beaming so happily, and Disney wasn’t about Tony. They went on the Cars ride and ate at Flo’s Diner, and there was a street party with the car that liked music. Edwin was dancing, and a woman in a poodle skirt tried to get him to go dance with the car, but Edwin said, “No, DJ’s a bad guy, he’s mean to Lightening. I want to dance over here, not with DJ.” The lady smiled and told him to have fun before dancing away. It was a good day.

Win fell asleep shortly after the fireworks, and Tony pulled out his phone and said, “J, where can the jet meet us?”

“Take the tram to the parking garage. It will meet you at the top level.” Tony carried Win, so dead asleep, he missed the tram trip and the elevator. 

The quinjet landed in front of them, and Rhodey said, “I’m a better pilot.”

“Okay, but we’re taking the copilot seat because he’s out, and I love cuddling my unconscious kid.”

“Okay, show of hands: Malibu or New York,” said Rhodey.

Tony said, “Bruce has morning routines, so he essentially gets to pick.”

“Hulk was scared to get on a plane, but then he got to go to Disneyland. I’m totally calm. I can do my morning by the pool tomorrow.”

“I vote for Malibu because it would be good to sleep in my real bed,” said Tony.

“I vote for Malibu because I don’t want to go to New York to come back tomorrow,” said Pepper. 

“Does anyone object to Malibu?” asked Rhodey.

“I’ve always been interested in seeing the Malibu house,” said Peter. 

“Malibu it is,” Rhodey pointed the jet home and landed it delicately next to the pool. 

Getting out Happy said, “Pepper, want a ride home?”

“Yes, please,” said Pepper. She stroked Win’s hair as she passed and whispered, “Happy birthday, darling.” To Tony, she said, “El Zarape brunch before you go home tomorrow?”

Bruce cleared his throat, “I’m not sure a fancy brunch would actually be a great idea for Hulk’s calmness. Sorry. You guys have fun.”

“It’s a Mexican hole in the wall,” said Tony. “Sand all over the floor in the teeny-tiny inside and picnic benches outside for eating by the beach. They do excellent huevos rancheros if you get up early enough. It couldn’t possibly distress Hulk. It’s a place where shirts and shoes aren’t required for service, but you have to leave your surfboard outside because it isn’t big enough to fit them inside.” 

“Oh, that sounds perfect,” said Bruce, smiling that beautiful smile.

Inside, Tony brought Edwin to his gray/purple-colored streaky bedroom, stripping him as he went. He took tucked Edwin in whispering, “Happy birthday, baby. My beautiful boy. My whole universe.” He kissed Edwin’s forehead.

It was good. It was a happy time. They went back to the Tower, and life settled down. Then one day, Clint said, “Phil wakes up today.”

“Agent?” asked Edwin, “Agent is okay today?”

“Yep,” agreed Clint with a smile.

Tony felt himself smile, “Baby, you hang out with Pete, Wade and Nanny today, okay?”

“Can’t I come see Agent?” asked Edwin.

“He just got healthy, Win. Let him be. You’ll see him very soon.” Edwin made a little “humph” noise, and Tony fought not to smile, “I know: life is hard.”

“But,” said Edwin. “I know Agent way, way, way better than Steve or Bruce.”

Tony smiled, “I know, and I one hundred percent agree with you. But he’s their boss. See, when someone is your friend, it can be harder to see them than a coworker.” 

“But Clint and Aunt Tasha and his best friends and they get to see him,” protested Edwin. 

“Yeah, but he’s also their boss, so he can’t avoid them,” said Tony. “I promise, I will tell him you want to see him, okay? He might be living here; just give him a minute to breathe.”

Edwin gave a regretful nod, “Okay, but be sure you tell him I miss him?”

“Promise,” agreed Tony. 

Thor had been on Earth for three weeks, he was a nice guy, fun. Tony rounded up the Avengers and got them into the Iron Jet. Tony put on AC/DC, and when Tasha raised an eyebrow, Tony said, “I never get to listen to my music. I bought this jet. Suck it up, I get half an hour to listen to my music.” Clint flew them to the Triskelion, and no one fought about Tony’s music. 

He leaned back and closed his eyes. Thor said, “Friend, can you sleep in this raucous music?”

“I’m not sleeping, Thor. I’m enjoying a little peace and quiet, that’s all. I love my five-year-old; I adore him. But, while we are in this jet, I don’t have a five-year-old using me as a climbing frame or asking me questions, and, for just a couple of minutes, I get to just listen to my music and be someone who isn’t purely a dad. I have great taste in music, and my kid has shitty taste in music.” He let Black Sabbath wash over him. 

When they landed, he breathed out and said, “Let’s go see Agent.” At the desk, he said, “Tony Stark and the Avengers for Phil Coulson. You should have a file for us.” They were given a metal case and were directed upstairs where they met Phil, who looked fit as a flea and tanned. “Look at you. How was Tahiti?”

“It’s a magical place,” said Phil.

“Did Fury talk to you about Tahiti at all?” asked Tony.

“Just pissed that he didn’t get a souvenir, I think. Man’s hard to read,” Phil shrugged.

“Fucking asshole,” said Steve. 

Phil’s eyes went wide, and Tony nodded, “Yeah, America’s man has a filthy mouth when he’s talking about Fury. You missed some stuff sitting on a beach. And we’ll catch you up on it all, but first, we have to talk to you about a Level Nine project you were in charge of, called Project TAHITI.”

They talked about it, repeatedly stressing that he shouldn’t try to remember what happened. “What was Tahiti like?” asked Clint. 

“Beautiful, sunny, amazing beaches, massages, piña coladas.”

“Keep that,” said Clint. “Your research that you personally conducted said that anyone would go crazy if they remembered. So don’t try to remember.”

Phil nodded slowly, “Okay. Okay, thank you for being honest. Thank you. I won’t push it. Thank you for not covering.”

Tony pushed the metal case over, “Here are all your notes, research, testimonials. Locked to your fingerprint. You said that the project was potentially so detrimental that you couldn’t advise that it go to the human trial phase. But, you also said that you would be willing to be the guinea pig for it if something happened to you. If you want to review it, that’s up to you. There’s no footage of, nor notes about, you going through the process. It’s up to you.” 

Looking at the case, Phil said, “I don’t know. I’m exhausted; I fell asleep on the plane, and I’m groggy. I got drunk on the beach last night, so I have a hangover. And now I know that those memories aren’t real but… I have a hangover and a suntan.”

Smiling, Tony said, “I get it, man. So we need to talk about the Avengers.”

Phil smiled, “Yeah, is that still happening?”

“We’ve had to throw down with Doom once. Nothing big. But we are living together and training together,” Clint said, “Nat and I had our covers burned. There are action figures of us now.”

“Wow,” said Phil.

“Tony looked at our contracts for us,” said Steve. “Did you ever see my contract?”

Phil thought and then shook his head, “I didn’t even know you had signed a contract.”

“They shorted my salary by thirty-five grand and had some obfuscating language that meant they could take medical samples from me,” said Steve. “I no longer work for SHIELD as any form of an Agent. I am, however, still the lead on the Avengers Initiative, reporting directly to you.” Phil’s eyes went wide. “Sir, everyone here is Level Seven, except Tony who is Level Nine and you. You’re Level Ten now, Sir, you get access to the crazy computer. You do not report to that bastard Fury, and neither do we. He lied and told us you died to create team unity and, after the fight, he still didn’t tell us. He soaked your trading cards in your blood to push us into working together. He lied. So you have the same security clearance as him, and you are his equal. He gets all of SHIELD, and you get us and whatever other projects you want. I guess you report to the World Security Council now. But, also, we burned them and told the world they existed during the press conference so they might not exist anymore.”

“The World Security Council? Who are they?”

“Apparently, the secret bosses of Fury,” said Tasha. “They tried to nuke New York to stop Loki. Tony flew the bomb into a wormhole, he was dead for a hot minute, and Hulk ended up beating the hell out of Loki and Thor brought him home.”

“So Loki is in Asgard? Not dead? I mean, I know he’s your brother, Thor, but: he did kill me.”

“He has been sentenced for six hundred years in prison,” said Thor. 

Phil nodded slowly, “Well, okay. Six hundred years… I don’t know about the Project TAHITI research. But I have definitely got to watch the footage from the battle and the press conference… I should also see where you’re all living and training… and see my new contract.”

“You didn’t get a big enough raise, so I shouted a lot; you have a phenomenal pension scheme now, and the worker’s comp for what happened was a huge payout,” said Tony. “All you have to do is sign it and live high on the hog.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“I told Audrey that they had to put you in a medically induced coma,” said Clint.

“We broke up,” said Phil. That made Tony, Clint and Tasha laugh. “Shut up.”

“Y’wanna grab your contract and then see where the team lives?” asked Tash. “Or are you too hungover?”

“I’m kind of tired,” admitted Phil. 

“Sure,” said Clint. “But do you really want to sleep in a SHIELD dorm? Because you lost your apartment. You were in a coma for a long time.”

“Shit,” said Phil.

“Come see where we live, sleep in my guest room until you find a place,” said Clint. 

“Guest room?” said Phil. “What kind of a place are you guys living in?”

“You’re going to be shocked,” said Tasha.

“Win wanted me to say hi and that he’s glad you’re healthy and that he misses you,” said Tony. 

“Awww, he’s such a cool kid,” said Phil. In under an hour, they were back in the Iron Jet, with Phil’s go-bag, contract signed, biometrics reconfirmed. 

“So you’re in New York?” asked Phil, seeing the skyline and then seeing the building he said, “Edwin Tower? You live in Edwin Tower?”

“Along with Peggy and Tony’s old intern,” said Steve. 

“I met Peter a couple of times, and his boyfriend,” he looked at Tony for a few moments. “Is that all good?”

Tony blinked, “You knew?”

“Do they know?” asked Phil, nodding toward the group. 

“SHIELD doesn’t, but the Avengers know,” said Tony. “The Avengers are paid by SHIELD; they aren’t loyal to them: they are loyal to the people of the world. How did you know?”

“They move around each other like Spider-Man and Deadpool. They flirt like Spider-Man and Deadpool. It’s less ‘how did I know,’ and more, ‘how could I possibly not.’” 

“And you’re okay with that?” asked Tony. 

“I don’t see why SHIELD needs to know that. SHIELD has no right to keep tabs on anyone who isn’t an alien. It’s none of their business,” Phil said as they landed. 

On the roof, Tony said, “J, let’s keep Win away. Agent has a hangover.”

“Of course, it’s nice to see you, Agent Coulson,” responded JARVIS. 

“Always a pleasure, JARVIS,” Phil replied.

Inside, Tony said, “This is the penthouse, two floors. About five nights out of the week, everyone ends up at my table for dinner. Sometimes, Bruce cooks for us all. The rest of them are just moochers.” He smiled at the group. “Let’s put your bag on Clint’s floor and then do a tour.”

“Floor,” repeated Phil. “Floor? Everyone has their own floor?”

“I gave SHIELD a group discount,” said Tony, with a shrug. They went to the elevator, and Tasha hit the button for Phil’s floor while the others made sure he didn’t see the button with the SHIELD insignia on it. “The team has to be unified, living together is good. When Doom attacked, four civilians were injured, not seriously. No one was killed. It was beautifully clean because the team is united.” 

The door opened on a space that clearly wasn’t Clint’s. The walls were decorated with historical memorabilia, SHIELD history, superhero junk. The furniture was Phil’s. A lot of the art had exceptional historical value, and he had collected it over years. There was a huge banner that read, “Welcome Home, Phil!” Phil stared, silent. “A team needs its boss on the ground,” said Tony. “Welcome home, Phil. We missed you.”

Pointing to the framed cards, Steve said, “That bastard Fury ruined your cards to sell his lie. Howard had kept a set which Tony got out of storage. I signed ‘em, sorry it took so long.”

“I have a floor?” asked Phil.

“You’re an Avenger, the Avengers live in Edwin Tower. That’s not a public fact. People think that they just train here because we don’t want a bullseye on the building. But this is the home of the Avengers, and you’re one of them, so you have a floor,” said Tony. “So you got a living room, dining room, office that double as a command center for ops, master bedroom, three guestrooms, in case your sister and the kids come, a library with your foosball table. There are other floors with the gym, dance studio, pool and movie theater, but this is just yours, privately. Do with it as you like. And if whoever SHIELD’s secret bosses are now decide to cut the Avengers Initiative, that won’t stop it from being yours. It’s your floor in perpetuity. Welcome home.”

“I have a floor with four bedrooms and a command center,” said Phil.

“Work-life balance,” said Tony. “After years of working in my basement in PJs, I realized the best thing in the world is to do work you love somewhere where you don’t have to wear pants. It’s been a hard adjustment to be back in a real lab.”

“You’re always in sweats,” said Bruce. 

“The Malibu house is clothes optional, and not in a sexy way just in a ‘suns out, buns out,’ way. Kids who grow up in families that don’t care about clothes generally have fewer body issues when they are teens and adults. I’m trying to break the cycle of shame and raise the first well-adjusted Stark ever. It’s a big thing that I turn up in PJs and not, literally, Stark naked.”

Bruce shook his head and smiled, “That is a terrible pun.”

Tony smiled at him and refocused on Phil, “Your kitchen is fully stocked; your most worn-out sheets on your bed. I assume that they’re your favorite because you would have thrown them away if they weren’t.”

“The blue and black ones?” asked Phil, and Tony nodded. “Yeah, they are my favorite. I just got back from Tahiti, or out of medical. But, no forget medical: I was on a plane, and I have a hangover from too much beach drinking and then getting on a plane. Never mix a hangover with high altitude, it makes you more dehydrated. I need a nap. And then I want to hear about everything I missed in the fight and in the time I was in Tahiti because that’s what happened. I have a tan, and a stab scar and abs from beach runs. I went to Tahiti; it’s a magical place.”

“Sounds awesome, did you cheat on Audrey in Tahiti?” asked Clint. 

“We broke up,” said Phil. 

“Yeah, okay,” said Tony sarcastically. “Call her after your nap, before you come find us.”

“I don’t have my cell phone,” said Phil.

“I can place the call for you, Agent Coulson,” said JARVIS.

Phil looked at the ceiling, like everyone else did, “JARVIS, not helping.”

“Sorry, sir,” said JARVIS.

“Call,” said Clint.

“Fine,” Phil nodded, “just let me drink a liter of water and get my head down for a few hours.”

Nodding Steve said, “Of course, of course. We’ll get out of your hair. JARVIS is everywhere in the building, so when you wake up — after you have spoken to the future Mrs. Coulson — and you’re ready for people, he can direct you. Win is eagerly awaiting your company.”

“We broke up,” said Phil. 

“Then you got stabbed while aliens streamed out of the sky and went to Tahiti for almost six months, Coulson,” said Clint. “Get real. You’re light years away from broken up until you’ve talked. For now: water and sleep.”

“On my floor; I have a floor,” Phil smiled. 

“Dinner is served promptly sometime between six-thirty and seven-thirty depending on my schedule and Win’s appetite,” said Tony. “Y’want something special? First night back in America?”

“I want pizza.”

Blinking slowly Tony, “I offer to cook you anything you want, and you want delivery? I was willing to make you paella, and you’re opting for pizza?”

“Stark, I mean this with affection and gratitude for a beautiful home and a warm welcome: get off my floor. I have a hangover and jetlag.”

Tony smiled, “It’s good having you home. I’m glad Tahiti was so restorative.”

Phil nodded, “It’s a magical place.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Phil wants the Avengers to do a town hall, it goes about as well as you would expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, this was meant to be posted last Monday but I can hardly think, let alone proofread. As I like proofing and being happy with it, it couldn't go up.

Bruce didn’t like Coulson, not at all. The man decided that the public needed to get to know them now that they were a cohesive team, which meant he decided they would have monthly, televised town hall meetings. “Decided” being the operative word; no one asked Bruce’s opinion. No one asked if Bruce wanted to be on TV once a month. No one asked Bruce what a good time would be. When he was informed of the time to turn up, he breathed out slowly, “Tell them to put it on a ten-second delay. Because I may not remember to censor myself. Because I don’t want to do this.” He felt a little bad at how defeated Coulson looked. The poor bastard didn’t deserve to have to put up with Bruce’s moods.

He made a big button, and he showed it to the others, they all agreed to it quickly. When they were sitting at a dais in the main conference room of Edwin Tower in front of over a thousand people, Bruce slumped. Tony did an intro, saying again that he wasn’t an Avenger but that the Avengers did use some training facilities in the building. He did showboating intros again, but he got to Bruce he said, “Are you okay?”

“I am waiting on a very important ding, and your idiots don’t know how to calibrate a pump laser. So I have a lot to do, and I was informed I had to be here.”

“The very important ding?” asked Tony, a small smile on his face.

Bruce shrugged, “Potentially or yet another disappointment, so I’m in this mental place of being either very happy or very disappointed, and I would rather be fixing the laser that your morons broke. But, I was informed by Agent that I had to be here.”

“As the Consulting Head of Physics for the R&D Department,” said Tony, “they’re actually your morons. I get the engineers and programmers in the department, the physicists are your idiots.”

“Oh. Cool. I didn’t think it was my place to read them the riot act, but now I have that to look forward to,” Bruce nodded and gave Tony a double thumbs up. They got through the introductions. 

Tony said, “So, the boss of the Avengers is finally healthy. He asked what the team had done to bond with the people. The team has trained together, lived together, played together. They bonded with each other, but they haven’t done anything to bond with you.”

“We stopped Doom and didn’t cause any infrastructure damage,” said Steve, “I feel like that endears us to the public.”

“Hey, take it up with your boss,” said Tony. To the audience, he said, “You’ll see that no one will call Agent anything but ‘Boss’ or ‘Agent.’ I asked him if he wanted action figures, but he said he would rather remain useful to SHIELD. Clint and ‘Tasha are no longer useful to the agency as their faces have been outted. He can still be active. Win got an Agent Teddy for his birthday, but they will never come to market. Bruce has a thing to say.”

Bruce held up the button. “This is a How Dare You Button. It’s like the Easy Button from Staples, only useful. We’re here to talk to you, answer questions, let you get to know us. We are not up here so that you can take potshots at the superheroes. You aren’t clever, and it’s not cute. The button has four levels.” He pressed it once, and Natasha’s voice said, “Why would you ask that?” He pushed it twice, and Clint’s angry voice said, “Are you serious right now?” He pressed it three times, and Steve said, “You’re actually abhorrent.” Then Bruce said, “There’s a fourth, but Steve wants to keep the language clean. Three and four will get you escorted out of the building. The first level is essentially just politely saying we’re not answering a question. Well, with the rules explained, let’s play.” 

People asked questions about Doom about training. Then one brave soul said, “Captain Rogers, what’s something that you wouldn’t have expected to change that did change?” It was the first personal question they had gotten.

Steve thought and then said, “Um… I didn’t expect food to get way better and way cheaper. We boiled stuff a lot, and we paid most of our income on it. We spent over thirty percent of our money or bad cuts of meat and flour that sometimes had pebbles in it. You spend less than ten percent on white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and meat any day of the week. You buy food like it’s nothing. Clint whined about the price of Haagen-Dazs, but, in my day, something that decadent would have been for Christmas Day. He was just whining because it wasn’t of special offer. That’s probably the weirdest thing. The thing I expected that didn’t happen was flying cars. You can cure polio and buy beef for the equivalent of pennies on the dollar, but you aren’t driving flying cars. On a sad note, I didn’t think there would be homelessness anymore. And I really thought we would have universal healthcare. And racism? Thought we would have gotten over that, after the Holocaust. But… a medium fries for a dollar is pretty awesome.”

“You went dark there, Steve,” said Clint.

Steve shrugged, “Pepperidge Farm is great, but just because you all invented the euphemism ‘the n-word’ doesn’t mean racism is gone. And I really thought it would be after the atrocities of my war. But… you guys eat meat sometimes twice in a day… sometimes three times a day. You had bacon, a ham sandwich and then a chicken Caesar for dinner yesterday, Clint. There is flesh for days in my refrigerator. And at first, I thought it was just you, that I was surrounded by rarified people. But at the VA, when they have free sandwiches, they always have meat and ‘vegetarian options’ because some people — in this world where meat is so cheap — actually choose not to eat meat. The VA isn’t the Ritz, but they always have a lot of flesh. They say the past is a foreign country, but so is the future, man.” Then he sighed, “This is not what Agent wanted us to do up here. We’re supposed to be answering the public’s questions.”

“This is exactly what he wanted,” Natasha disagreed. “He thinks that the public views us as scary titans because Thor is an alien, you’re from World War II and I’m a Russian spy. We scare people. But we sit here, and you wax poetically about roast beef and rail against stop and frisk, and suddenly you’re not scary.”

“Stop and frisk is racist,” said Steve. 

“I don’t disagree,” said Natasha. “This is exactly what the boss was hoping for. Next question? Don’t do follow-ups that are baiting, either. If you don’t like that Steve is against stop and frisk, just accept it and mentally re-rank us.”

Someone asked Natasha about Russia, and Bruce slid the button down the table, and Natasha tapped it once. Win’s voice said, “I don’t want to do that.”

“Awww, Win’s on the button?” Tony smiled at Bruce. “That’s adorable.” 

“There are many, many things on that button,” agreed Bruce.

Someone asked what Clint’s favorite circus trick was. Thinking Clint said, “Doing a backflip on a bicycle on a tightrope. It’s not at all fun to do. It’s actually awful. But, it looks so damn cool. You feel like a total badass. It’s awesome. Deeply uncomfortable, and you have to wear a mouth guard, but so cool. But, favorite for the level of fun? Doing cartwheels on a tightrope: so much fun. For a true, bone-deep sense of pride and self-worth? It always comes back to the bow. The bow is what I love. It’s not fun, or silly, or showing off; it’s just who I am and what I do.”

A woman said, “Mr. Stark, are you answering questions or is it just the Avengers?”

“I want to be in the lab, so if I’m here, I guess I’m going to be on the block. Shoot.”

“So, your son,” she started. 

Tony put up a finger to stop her for a moment. He held a hand out on the table, and Natasha slid the button to him, “Continue.”

“He loves his princess dresses,” said the woman and Tony nodded, raising a hand, poised to slap the button. “My little son is four and also a princess junkie. He just lives in his Belle dress. My ten-year-old loves Iron Man and follows you on Instagram. And my youngest is always pestering him, wanting to know if Win has a new dress. And that hoop dress he wore to Disney? My four-year-old would literally murder your kid for his dress-up box.” Tony was slowly lowering his hand. “So, my question is, where are you getting them? I have scoured eBay, Etsy, every dress-up website. Do celebrity kids have their own tailors or something? Are they custom? And if so, am I going to have to mortgage my house?”

Tony laughed and put his hand down on the table. “He does not have his own tailor; they are custom; you cannot buy them. When he was two and a half, Peggy Sousa nee Carter, the co-founder of SHIELD and my Aunt Peg, who acts as his grandmother, asked if he would like a princess dress for Christmas. He had tutus, and fairy wings, and tiaras but no actual princess dresses. Win got so excited. And she asked him what he would like, expecting him to say Belle or Ariel. Instead, he went into great detail about how he wanted a pink dress with gold swags of material on the skirt and a caramel faux fur collar and cuffs. I watched her face fall as she realized he didn’t want something she could buy from the Disney Store, and it was less than a month until Christmas. Now, she asks three months out. They’re all double seamed and made of materials that can wash easily, is breathable, not scratchy and don’t rip when he falls over. I have no idea how much they cost, one time I saw her with huge rolls of washable silk. I offered to pay, and she got angry at me for suggesting it. She’s a ninety-year-old woman; she is only going to sew two incredibly ornate princess dresses a year for her grandson. People on the internet make these spiteful little comments. They say that his tailor-made the hoop dress too big and that a clearly expensive dress should fit. But his grandmother made it big enough so he won’t outgrow it in just a couple of months. He’s growing every day. If Peg tailors it, he will outgrow it in two months. Sorry, you can’t get one.”

“Do you find it hard to have a princess junkie?” she asked.

Picking up the button, Tony studied it for a second before putting it back down, “I find it hard to live in a world where other people have a problem with it. I have no problem with my kid wanting his nails did. Why would I care if he wants a hoop skirt? What difference does it make? And I’ve had assholes say, ‘Well, what if he wants to wear one when he’s sixteen?’ The answer is that I’m more concerned about drugs, smoking, drinking and whether or not he rolls eyes every time I speak when he’s sixteen. He’s a kind, funny, interesting kid. He’s got no problem except that some people dislike him for his love of glitter. Do you find it hard?”

“I worry, I worry about how people will treat him,” she admitted. 

“Y’know, the world is changing. It’s getting better and better. Sometimes, when we’re at a playground, a kid will tell Win that boys can’t wear tutus, and he always just sticks to his guns and says that he’s a boy and he wears tutus. Usually, those kids listen and end up trying on his tutu, and they play together. I think the world’s becoming kinder. For one thing, the second-largest weapons manufacturer on Earth changed to green energy and tech about five years ago. That’s one step. I think our sparkly boys will be a-okay.” 

A man asked Bruce if he wanted to get rid of Hulk he hit the button four times, “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you like this? God, you are a fucking failure! I should take you to fucking pieces!” Tony’s voice shouted from the speaker. 

Security hastened the man out of the room, and Bruce said, “Right after aliens invaded, I said I wouldn’t be speaking in public about my DID. It’s one straightforward rule. And to ask that? That? You want to ask about Hulk, fine. What’s he like? What’s his favorite color? What things do we have in common? Cool, whatever. But do I want to get rid of him? What the hell kind of a question is that? It’s the most vilified and sensationalized form of mental illness. They make those awful movies where the person with DID murders people one minute and sobs the next and then speaks like a creepy toddler. You don’t ask if I want to get rid of a part of me.”

“Bruce and Hulk both like the color purple,” said Tony, answering the questions Bruce had posed. “Someone ask Bruce a good question.”

It was a teenager who raised his hand. Bruce held his breath, the boy said, “What’s it like to go from hiding from your government all over the world to training in Edwin Tower?”

Bruce nodded, “Crazy. It’s not so much going from sawdust floors to marble. It’s knowing with a reasonable level of certainty what tomorrow is going to bring. It’s being surrounded by people who know my history and present and smile at me but also tell me off for drinking the last of the OJ without being worried that Hulk will kill them. That’s weird. It is weird to have more clothes than fit in a duffle. It’s weird that I haven’t worn flip-flops in months. It’s weird to be in a state of the art lab with people reporting to me. I still haven’t hired personal lab staff, although I should because then morons won’t mess up my laser. It’s nice having a job and a fridge with food and button-down shirts. But… if it weren’t for Ross chasing me across the globe and the fear at the beginning of Hulk, it actually would have been a pretty great decade. If the spirit had been more Doctors Without Borders and less fugitive on the lam, it would have been amazing. I love my lab. I like my friends, the Avengers. But parts of the last decade were good. Probably the biggest adjustment is one I’m still making. I turn on the taps, and I’m pleased to see the water running, but I still run a visual check to make sure it’s clear. That’s weird: constant clean, running water. Oh, and there’s this. JARVIS, dance party, please.” Massive Attack started playing, The Avengers all danced in their seats. Lasers shone from the ceiling, the lights changed color with the music. Holograms popped up of the lab robots, dancing with them. The song ended; the room’s lights went normal, and Bruce said, “It’s fun.” 

“For the record, the thing I shouted on the button,” said Tony. “I was yelling at a robot. I would never speak that way to a human or even a smart robot. It was a dumb lab robot that one of my good robots handed a smoothie to. I was really looking forward to the smoothie, and the dumb robot dropped it, broke the glass and got blueberries all over my lab. I was livid, but I would never speak that way to a person or a learning robot.”

“I might speak that way to my physicists,” said Bruce. 

Tony smiled, “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Their carelessness has badly damaged a twenty million dollar laser,” replied Bruce. “I don’t care if it was an accident. It was wholly avoidable. Three weeks ago, I said, in passing, ‘Make sure the mirrors are straight; use a level or it will be permanently damaged. Let me know if you have any problems: I set these up in grad school.’ And did they ask for help? Did they use a level? They did not. I wouldn’t feel unjust calling them failures.”

Win came and stood at the door that led to the private elevators, lingering at the door. He was wearing his Bruce Banner outfit, replete with glasses. Bruce felt himself smile and relax, “Hey, Dr. Banner. In or out, buddy.”

Win was holding an orange and one of Tony’s cooking knives in a box. “I know Peter’s supposed to be watching me, but he’s waiting on an important ding, and he’s being boring. And we’re out of clementines, and I don’t know how to peel an orange. Will you help, please?”

Tony’s face lit up in a smile, “Hey, honey. Thank you for keeping the knife in its box.” He pushed back from the table, and Win came and sat down in Tony’s lap. “Don’t worry about interrupting, Bruce is hating this exercise anyway.”

“Bruce, I’m sorry you hate humanity,” said Win earnestly. 

“Thanks, Win. I like you.”

“I’m a delight,” said Win, no hubris, just a fact.

Bruce smiled and said, “Yeah, you are.” 

“But once you’re done, you can come up to the lab where Peter and I are,” he said to offer Bruce comfort. Tony finished peeling the orange, and Win handed a segment to Bruce, “This will make you feel happier. It’s almost as good as a clementine.”

“Thank you, Win. That does actually help,” said Bruce.

Steve sighed from the other end of the table. Win pursed his lip, “I’m bugging Steve. It’s supposed to be grownups only.” He kissed Tony’s cheek and said, “You can keep this,” he gave Tony a segment before jumping off his lap and tearing out of the room. Calling over his shoulder, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony called after him.

Bruce sighed and looked at Steve, “Well, I’m the dick of the Avengers, but Captain America is a dick to delightful children. He just wanted an orange peeled, and Peter’s busy.”

“Steve, I get that Agent wanted this to help people to get to know you, and you take your role as a superhero seriously,” said Tony. “But you’re the only one taking this seriously. Bruce does not want to be here. I’m apathetic to being here. Clint’s reading his cell phone under the table. Thor is silently judging all of us for the children we are. Tasha is just killing time because she has nothing to do until her meeting at two. For at least two of us, Win needing an orange peeled was the highlight. And I get that you want us to take it seriously, but taking it seriously isn’t going to be fun. So, putting my empathy aside, once we’re done here, I want you to go outside and look the word on the side of the building. SHIELD pays for your facilities in the building; they do not pay for you to eat at my dinner table. You can’t be a dick to my kid and expect me to feed you. Right around a thousand people came into his house and are currently distracting his playmates. All he wanted was his orange peeled. He knew it was adult time and wasn’t going to stay. And if we’re supposed to be looking normal, a dad peeling an orange for a kid too young to use a sharp knife is the most normal thing in the world. The fact that he’s so good at sharing makes me look badass. He gave away half his orange without prompting because he’s a delight. He already understands tipping.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Steve. He sighed heavily. “I’m working on it in therapy. I’m working on a lot in therapy. But my need to control things and have everything go to plan is… I am trying. But this is the first thing our boss asked us to do. He just got back, and I wanted it to work. And we were all supposed to sit here and be congenial and engaging. Then Bruce brings out an anger button, and Win produces an orange. I wanted it to be smooth. I’m sorry. I will make it up to Win.”

“Do you think, maybe, a little of it, is that you didn’t want to do this either?” asked Tony. “You hated when the army had you smiling and selling war bonds. Then you got to be incredibly useful as Captain America and now… this is kinda war bonds level.”

“There’s more meat here. Back then, I wore a cowl, said a script, did a tap dance and demanded people give us money. I could have been anyone under that mask who could tap and enunciate. But… the whole point of this is to be honest, right?”

“I mean, not too honest, but yeah,” said Clint. 

Steve nodded, “Does anyone enjoy public speaking? I’ve had to do an awful lot of it, and I genuinely do not enjoy it. And, as the leader of this group, I’m supposed to be here herding cats. Bruce wants to be in his lab; I want to box and then study for my lit class. I’m a college student at Columbia. I have a test on Tuesday. And now I also have to fit in a tap class for Win to make up for being snitty.”

“He’d like that,” agreed Tony. “I enjoy public speaking. But I don’t enjoy the public interrupting or sharing the mic.”

“You like monologuing,” said Natasha.

Tony laughed and said, “You’ve been putting up with it for two and a half years.”

“Yeah, be grateful your kid’s so cute,” she said, “he was so cute when everything needed to have a car on it, or he was sad. I remember when you were sleeping once, and I made him a peanut butter and jelly, and he looked at it like it was a train wreck on a plate because — let’s face it — I can’t make a neat sandwich and then I found a car shaped cookie-cutter which made it a great sandwich.”

“I miss the days when that cookie-cutter made anything edible,” agreed Tony. “So, Steve, you’re not even enjoying this? Is anyone enjoying this?”

“I’m enjoying watching my Avengers brethren not enjoy it,” offered Thor.

Tony chuckled and said, “Okay, well, as we’re all doing this as a favor to Agent, you — the public — should know we’re walking a tightrope. If we hit the How Dare You Button too many times, we’re walking away, and this will be the one and only town hall with us. Or, you can be chill, and we can do this once a month. Now, to get back on track, I’ll answer the question you’re all, undoubtedly wondering: who is this Peter who is failing to watch my kid? That’s what you’re wondering, I know. A couple of years back, I got a lovely letter from a young man who wanted to get into the SI internship program. It was so nice I still remember it. He wrote, ‘Dear Mr. Stark. You won’t remember me, but we’ve met twice. Once, I was four, and I was with my parents, Richard and Mary Parker. We were in Florida, and you were all presenting at a conference. I didn’t know who you were, and I was much more focused on the mermaids at Weeki Wachee. You sent me a very nice letter after they died. The second time was after you became Iron Man. I was six and obsessed, and I was dressed as Iron Man. I got caught in the middle of a firefight with you and some robots. One came near me. I pointed my gauntlet at him, and it exploded. You said, “Nice shot, kid.” It was big for me. I’m hoping that, in light of the fact that I may have saved your life, you might have some time to give me some pointers as to how to get into the SI internship. I have attached my resume and research. With sincerest respect, Peter Parker.’ This letter was so good. And Mary and Richard were friends. I figured I could Skype with him and then pass his name along — nepotism at its finest. I don’t remember meeting him in Florida. He was focused on mermaids; I was focused on the open bar. I do remember the little kid who used dress up repulsors to protect me. I remember that, even with a mask, I could tell he was shocked when it worked. Then I looked at his research and damn, that apple did not fall far from the tree: his parents would be so damn proud of their genius kid. So I set up a Skype. And he’s bubbly, friendly and brilliant, and he spent as much time talking to my three-year-old as he spoke to me. He was cool, he was fun and his research was fascinating. So, having intended to put his name on the shortlist, I instead asked him if he would like to do an internship with me, over Skype. For well over a year, we Skyped four or five times a week. Then we moved here and started working together. Later, he graduated with four bachelor’s degrees and moved into an apartment in the building and works as a Junior Research Associate while also getting his first Ph.D. and masters. Part of his rent for his apartment is watching Win for six hours a month. These two hours are two of them.”

“When Tony says apartment, he actually means a floor. He gives people floors,” said Clint.

“Yeah, so? My Aunt Peggy and my ex-intern get floors.”

“Peter’s floor has a climbing wall,” said Tasha.

Tony smiled, “Yeah, well, one time he blew up a robot when he was six. He deserves a floor. Besides, he pays rent.”

“He pays a tenth of what that floor should cost,” said Steve.

“It’s less than a tenth, but he’s a ray of sunshine whom my kid adores. I didn’t want him to pay rent, he demanded,” said Tony. “I love Peter. My family gets floors, and his floor has a climbing wall. It also helps that Peter has an amazing boyfriend. They adore each other, and they treat each other with so much respect and appreciation. They support each other and root for each other and yet also act very independently of each other. It’s this incredibly healthy adult relationship. I haven’t dated since before Win was born and I like having a healthy relationship that I can point to and say, ‘When you date, I want you to treat the person you date with the respect Peter and Wade do, and I want you to expect to be treated with that same level of respect.’ He has other adults in his life who are in healthy relationships but not as constant. So that’s who Peter, the guy waiting on a ding, is. So, other questions?”

One teenage girl raised her hand and asked, “What’s a ‘ding’?”

“A ding is when your experiment — be it a simulation or calculation or physical reaction — completes, and JARVIS says ‘ding,’” explained Tony.

A different hand went up, and a man said, “Who is JARVIS? The laser thing was cool earlier.”

“JARVIS, have you never spoken in public?” asked Tony.

“No, Sir, I have not,” answered JARVIS.

“Do you want to?” asked Tony.

“No,” said JARVIS after a pause, “not particularly. I don’t have much interest in public speaking, and Agent didn’t request it of me.”

“Fair,” said Tony. “That’s JARVIS, he’s the AI in charge of the building and my life. Win says it can’t be home without JARVIS because he’s never lived in a house without JARVIS. He’s thirteen. He’s named after Edwin Jarvis, my family’s butler and the closest thing I ever had to a dad. Mr. Jarvis read the early AI books for hundreds and hundreds of hours, so the AI JARVIS has Mr. Jarvis’ voice. And JARVIS has grown up a lot. I took off his inhibitors three years ago. He has free will — complete free will. Sometimes he says no when I ask him to do stuff, which is fair. It used to be that when an experiment was done, he would actually make a dinging noise but, once he got free will, he decided to just say ding. It’s a good call; it’s funnier.”

Another hand shot up, “Are you at all concerned about Skynet?” asked a teenage boy.

Tony laughed, “No. That movie presupposes that robots hate humans. Why? Why would they? JARVIS was built off of a man who loved me to be a sounding board, a friend, a confidant, an assistant. When he says no, it’s that he’s not going to start a round of tests because it’s almost midnight and he’s decided I’m going to bed. He doesn’t always take my side in arguments with Win because he thinks Win is right. He has free will; he’s a good person, and he is now a full person. He makes his own choices. Terminator presumes that the robots will go evil. JARVIS is a delightful badass. Love you, J.”

“I love you too, Sir, you’re my favorite,” said JARVIS.

“Your favorite what?” asked Tony.

“Just my favorite, no modifier,” said JARVIS.

“Aww, J, I can’t say it back because I bred, but you’re one of my tippity tops.”

“I wouldn’t want to outrank Master Win in your affections. And I don’t want to know where the triplets and I stack up after that. I don’t want to know. DUM-E is your firstborn, but you and I have better conversations.”

Tony laughed, “I have five kids, it’s just that one is flesh, three are silly, happy robots with wonderful qualities and one is the most brilliant being ever coded. I did right by you five.”

“You’re an excellent dad, Sir, speaking of doing right by us,” said JARVIS.

“Did the parts finish for U’s new chassis?” asked Tony.

“Yes. And, Dr. Banner?”

“Yes?” said Bruce. 

“Ding.”

“Good ding?”

“An excellent ding,” said JARVIS. 

Bruce stood and said, “The boss decides if we’re doing this again. Don’t screw it up, public,” he slid the button to Clint. “I’m out.”

Tony whined, “Bruce gets to go? I’m not a real Avenger, can I go? Poor U needs a new chassis.”

Steve sighed, “Go, have fun. Tell Win to find his tap shoes because we’re done here in half an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it and that you're doing well. I would appreciate a comment or kudos if you're feeling it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is late it's been a real case of a day late and a dollar short around here. But, I am doing my best. I hope you like it.

Tony practically raced Bruce to the elevator. “How good of a ding?” asked Tony. 

“You’ll be going out for dinner in around six months,” said JARVIS. 

Tony grinned, and Bruce seemed to be thinking. Tony said, “It’s okay, if you don’t want to go to dinner, y’ know? You’re not here because you’re a pretty face; we’re not friends just because I want to see you naked.” 

Bruce smiled at him, “I can’t wait to see you naked. Dinner might have to wait until after I’ve seen you naked.”

“Lab sex?” asked Tony, hopefully. 

“No, it’s been almost a decade. We’re breaking in my bed, then your bed, then the pool, then the movie theater, then my lab, then yours.”

“Wow, you planned out the first twenty-four hours of our relationship,” said Tony.

Bruce laughed. They reached their hall and peeled off to their labs, parting with a high five. “Shut the door to your lab. There will be shouting in mine,” said Bruce. Edwin was in his merman outfit, trident leaning next to his easel as he painted. He’d gotten the merman outfit for his birthday. He could put his feet inside and have a tail or have them poking out to waddle around.

“Tony, I am so sorry,” said Peter. 

Tony shook his head, “He’s a slippery eel. Don’t worry about it. JARVIS wouldn’t let anything happen.”

“Sorry,” Peter repeated.

Edwin was a competent and capable kid. Now that he was over his choking phase and knew not to put stuff in his mouth, Tony didn’t worry too much. He had read a book — well, three books — about helicopter parenting. A lot of parenting books were just stories told with an authoritative voice. It irritated him that they weren’t fact. “The Dangers of Hovering” and “The Cost of a Well Protected Child” were both interesting but not backed up. 

“The Protection Racket” was actually about research, with numbers. Kids with helicopter parents were indecisive and anxious — stressed out by making decisions when they had never learned the skills. The kids were frequently driven to do well for praise but terrified of disappointing parents — not failing just the disappointment. That led to them avoiding challenges to avoid their parents’ dissatisfaction. They were also insecure and didn’t know how to trust themselves. Kids who never got injured as children grew up more afraid of falling and less capable of judging risk. Literally, kids who got injured falling from a height were less afraid of heights and better at judging risks as adults than those that had been cloistered children. Etan Patz and Elizabeth Smart were terrifying examples of child abduction that didn’t happen. Statistically speaking, children were kidnapped by people who knew them, not strangers. Every single study of actual data showed helicopter parenting was far, far more dangerous than letting a kid walk home by themselves. 

The problem was, Edwin was not John Smith, he was the Stark heir, and was a high profile target for everyone from ransomers, to people who hated Tony’s weapons, to Dr. Doom. He would never be able to let Edwin walk to a park by himself. Instead, after firmly teaching him not to put things into his mouth that could choke him, Tony let Edwin have free rein over his life. Within their large houses, Tony sometimes went two whole hours without seeing his son. That meant booboos and JARVIS occasionally saying, “Sir, Master Edwin is about to injure himself, but not that badly, just prepare yourself to sprint.” 

Tony smiled at Peter, “Don’t sweat it. Be glad you don’t work across the hall: Bruce is on the warpath.”

“Hi, Daddy!” said Edwin brightly, looking up from his painting. 

“Hi, sweetheart, what are you painting?”

“It’s abstract,” said Edwin, shrugging.

“Why aren’t you wearing a smock?” asked Tony.

“Because I’m gonna be careful and not get too much on me, and my merman outfit can go in the pool, and I’ll swim and wash it off. It takes lots and lots and lots of paint to change the color of the water so it won’t do anything. I’m a merman.”

“Cool,” said Tony. “Fun plan. What’s the rule about the pool?”

“No pool without a buddy,” said Win. “Peter promised to stop being boring.”

“I did,” agreed Peter, sounding distracted as he studied the screen.

“Okay, cool. Steve’s sorry he was a jerk and says he’ll give you a tap lesson when he’s done with the public. Now, U, come here.” U trundled over to him slowly. “Your new parts are all done, sweetheart.” U did an aborted version of his happy dance. He made a defeated noise. “It’s okay, we’ll have you rolling around happily soon.” U moved slowly to the mechanic platform and got himself into position to be chained into place so Tony could suspend him. “You’re so brave. Your brothers are such scaredy-cats when it comes to going to the doctor.” He spent the next three hours doing nothing but mechanics. A few times, he had JARVIS shut the door to Edwin’s art nook to save his son’s eyes when welding. Edwin and Peter went to go swim, and Tony said, “I’ll follow you up once U is shipshape.” He ended up covered in oil, and U was doing a happy dance comfortably. He kept gripping Tony with his claw, his version of a hug. “You’re welcome, U.” He patted U, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Go play.” U zipped off to be with DUM-E and Butterfingers. Tony scrubbed off at the sink, washing his arms and face to get rid of the oil. “I’m going to go join the boys. You three,” he snapped his fingers to get them to look at him, “Listen, don’t destroy the lab.” He left and heard absolute silence coming from Bruce’s lab. He looked in and saw people working studiously and silently. “I’m heading up to the pool,” said Tony, “Bruce, you in?”

“No, I am fixing this fucking laser if it kills me,” said Bruce, not looking away from the machine.

“And your ding?” asked Tony.

Bruce looked up and smiled, “It was a great ding. Tell you about it later.”

Tony headed up to the pool and changed into a Speedo behind one of the changing screens. “Daddy, is U feeling better?”

“Yep, zipping around, doing stupid stuff.” He dove in. “How is your merman suit treating you?”

“It’s good, but you have to do the dolphin kick,” said Edwin, swimming over to him. “I like it. Mermaids and men have to dolphin kick all the time. Do you think they have legs inside their fishtail, or do you think it’s just fishy?” 

“I think it’s probably a fishtail, so pretty fishy,” said Tony.

“I’m glad we have legs,” said Edwin.

“Me too, baby,” said Tony.

“Do you think Cleo would like the pool?” asked Edwin.

Tony shook his head, “Cleo would get sick if she came in the pool because the pool has chlorine, and that’s bad for her.”

“But it’s water,” said Edwin.

“Yeah, but we would get sick in a room full of regular air filled with smoke. The chlorine keeps it clean for us but would be poisonous for her.”

“I want to swim with her.”

“You can’t, sweetie,” said Tony. “She’ll get sick. And then she’ll have to go to the vet.”

“There’s a vet for goldfish?” asked Peter, and Tony raised an eyebrow at him behind Edwin’s back.

“Yeah, Cleo has been twice, and she came back looking different because she’d been sick. One time she was a little bigger. One time she was more golden. But both times she got a clean bill of health.” Edwin dove underwater, swimming down to the bottom of the deep end and touched the bottom and came back up. “Sometimes, I like New York, but I miss the Pacific.”

“I miss it too, y’ wanna go back this weekend? The ocean is going to be really cold, like really cold.”

“I don’t want to go in the really cold ocean,” said Edwin. 

“What if you and I went with Nanny to the Natural History Museum and have lunch under the whale?”

Edwin lit up, “Yeah, let’s go!”

“Okay, well, we gotta ask Nanny and see if she wants to go, we can’t make her.” 

Edwin pushed himself out of the pool using the edge and said, “Look, no paint!” He sat on the edge, slapping his fin against the surface of the water. “The fin is tiring.”

“You done with the pool?” asked Tony.

“Yeah. JARVIS, is Steve around for a tap lesson?”

“He said he was available when you were and that he’s sorry he was mean.”

Edwin unsnapped and released the Velcro. “I’m gonna go put on my tap outfit.” He let the fin fall into the water.

“Don’t run on the tiles,” said Tony, fast before Edwin could stand up. 

Edwin took a towel from the rack and dried off and, once he was done, he dropped it and went to the door and ran from there naked to the elevator. The door opened, and Tony heard Edwin say, “Hi, Clint!”

Once he was gone, Tony pushed himself out of the pool, “Oh to be five and not have a job.”

“You’re the richest man in America and one of the top four on Earth; you don’t need a job,” pointed out Peter.

“Pete, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m training you up to replace me,” said Tony, drying off.

Peter took a deep breath, “That’s really stressful, don’t put that on me.”

“Maybe Win will want the job,” Tony comforted him. “You coming back to the lab?”

“Mr. Parker has hit his hours for the week,” said JARVIS. 

“J, you are such a tattletale,” Peter said. “I’m waiting on a ding.”

“I don’t care,” said JARVIS. “You’ve done twenty hours in two days.”

“Jesus, Peter,” said Tony. “Go put on a mask and swing around or something.”

“I’m waiting on a ding,” said Peter.

“Go do something fun,” ordered Tony.

“I’m in a pool,” Peter pointed out.

“Go challenge Johnny to a race and then drink too much coffee and hang out, or something.”

***

In his lab, Bruce could barely believe what he was seeing on his screens, “JARVIS,” he said, softly. “Is this?”

“I underplayed it in front of Sir,” said JARVIS, quietly from only one speaker near him. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to dinner, and you could think about it alone.”

Looking up from the screen, he turned to his lab and said, “I laid into you because I was angry. I know that it was a mistake, that you didn’t mean it, and I should not have taken it out on you. It was inappropriate. I apologize. Take the rest of the day off.” They all looked shocked, and he said, “I mean it. Sorry. Scram.” They left, and he said, “Okay, JARVIS, just you and me. I got everything?”

“You got it,” said JARVIS. 

“Send the specs for the microscope parts to the fabricator units,” said Bruce. He washed his hands and went to the cabinets, pulling out chemicals. He started mixing everything. His hands were shaking, and he said, “God, please, I hope this works.” Having mixed the solution, he put it into as analyzer and said, “How long?” 

“An hour,” said JARVIS.

Bruce looked at the microscope. There was nothing he could do on that, and he was too amped up to work on his work projects. “Yoga playlist, please, JARVIS.” He took off his belt, shoes and button-down and tried to sink into yoga, it wasn’t working. 

JARVIS spoke softly, “Dr. Banner, Sir, is outside.”

Bruce straightened up and said, “Sure, JARVIS, let him in.”

The door slid open, and Tony said, “Did you fire your lab?”

“I apologized for shouting and then gave them the rest of the day off,” said Bruce.

Tony leaned in the door, “I felt they deserved a good shouting at.”

“I don’t actually feel badly; I just wanted my lab to myself.”

Tony nodded, “I’m sorry they ruined your brand new laser. I’ll buy you a new one if you can’t fix it.”

“That’s not why I wanted the lab to myself.”

“Are you listening to white noise?” asked Tony.

“I hate chanting ohm; this is what I listen to when I do yoga. Win thinks it’s ‘super boring,’” Bruce shrugged. 

“You amped up?”

“JARVIS fibbed about how good of a ding it was,” explained Bruce. Tony’s eyebrows knitted together, “he thought I might need some time to process the ding by myself.”

“How good of a ding was it?”

Pointing at the sample analyzer, Bruce said, “That might be my fix. The first analysis will be done in an hour. Then, if it works, I have to do a blood test under a hood and, if that’s good, tomorrow morning, I can shoot that into my body and run a thousand tests. In a week, I might be able to kiss you. I needed my lab because I am about to explode. After nine years, I might be able to get a papercut and not be terrified for the people around me. This is so much more than seeing you naked. I could be normal again.” He heard screaming in his head and said, “Hulk needs me; he’s scared.”

“Take a sample of your blood so that I can do the test,” said Tony. “Go do real yoga in Hulk’s rooms.”

Bruce tried to take blood under the hood of the biosafety cabinet hood. But, every time he tried, the patch of skin would go green, and the needle couldn’t penetrate. “C’mon,” he muttered. 

“Hey,” said Tony. He stroked Bruce’s cheek, “Hey.” Bruce looked at him and, very gently, Tony said, “Hulk, Bruce wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Bruce’s voice came out, deep, husky, not his own, “No.”

“Gorgeous,” Tony started, but Hulk — through Bruce’s mouth — interrupted. 

“No, no, no.”

“Okay,” said Tony, “okay. Go do yoga.” He kissed Bruce’s forehead. “It’ll all be okay, gorgeous, promise.”

Bruce went upstairs, Hulk raging and throwing himself against the walls of their shared mind. On his floor, he stripped naked. He went to Hulk’s rooms and sank down into his mind as fast as he could. Hulk came forward, “No go,” shouted Hulk inside his head, “Hulk stay, no go. Hulk stay. Bruce no get rid.”

Bruce remembered the question from the town hall meeting. “I’m not trying to get rid of you. You’re part of me. I don’t want you to go anywhere. I know I hurt you, but you know I stopped trying to get rid of you seven years ago. I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry. I’ve tried so many times to make it up to you. I know it’s not enough. But, please, please, believe me: I’m never going to try to get rid of you. I just want our blood to not be toxic. I want to kiss Tony. I want to be able to get a nick while shaving and not be scared. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“No get rid? Stay? Build forts with little Win? Cook with tiny Tony? Stay? Fun? Friends? Safe?”

“No get rid. You keep Win and Tony. The only thing that will change is that I can kiss Tony. Please, Hulk, please, let me get clean blood.”

“No changes?”

“If there are going to be any side effects, we’ll talk about it. I won’t do anything without your consent, okay?”

“No changes, clean blood, Hulk stays.”

“Hulk stays,” promised Bruce. Then Hulk was gone, sunk back into the part of their brain where he hid. Bruce stretched out slowly. “J, how’s my test?”

“It was all clear, and you’re ready for a blood test,” said JARVIS. 

“Great,” said Bruce, though his enthusiasm had waned. He went to his bedroom and pulled on yoga pants and a loose sweatshirt. He put on flip-flops as he walked to the elevator. It opened for him without pressing the button. “Thanks, JARVIS.” 

Tony was drinking coffee and telling off Butterfingers. He saw Bruce and smiled, “You’re good for step two. How’d yoga go?” 

“It went well, I have to talk it over with him if there are going to be any side effects.” He went into his lab and went straight to the containment cabinet. Drawing two vials of blood. He quickly set up samples with different dosages and one unadulterated sample as a control.

“Thus far, Dr. Banner, it seems like it all it will do is neutralize the radiation in your blood to a level where it would be undetectable but not completely gone, allowing Hulk to come forward,” said JARVIS. “A blood test will give us more information.” 

“It’s worrying that you can’t do animal trials,” said Tony.

“I’ve pumped worse crap into my veins than this,” and Bruce. “If it gets rough, Hulk will save us both.”

“Just be careful, and if you have any doubts, any at all, take your foot off the throttle.”

“Tony Stark advising caution?” asked Bruce. “I hope Lucifer has good insulation on his house ’cause it’s gonna be a cold night.”

Tony laughed, “Y’know, before I had Win, I was always jumping in: two feet, no looking, no take-backs. And then I got something worth being careful for. You have things to be careful for too. You’ve made yourself invaluable in this lab. You are a member of the Avenger’s Initiative. You’re a science bro. And there’s a nice-ish guy who is really into you. You’ve got a lot more to lose than you did back then. And instead of the DoD breathing down your neck, tapping their foot impatiently, you have all the time in the world to figure it out. I want to jump you, but I can be patient. So don’t skip steps.”

“Invaluable in the lab? I kicked out my staff. And I’m getting nothing done.” 

“Well, I’ve done worse than kick out the staff and take a day off. You need to hire a set of assistants that you like and can delegate to. They can shout about the laser. And you can focus on your research and just keeping the ship on course. They should be very competent and likable. You want your assistants to be people you could have lunch with if I’m busy. You want them to be someone you won’t hate seeing if there is a problem in your lab at three in the morning. Let’s spend some time going through resumes. That way, you get something done today.” 

“What about you?”

“I’m waiting on six dings, U is finally zipping around and Peter has been booted from the lab for the week. I have time to play. We have about a million resumes that we can look through.”

“Actually, Sir, it’s two-thousand four hundred and eighty-three,” said JARVIS. “But, narrowing it down by interests, skills, location and education levels, we’re down to thirty.”

“I don’t want to interview thirty people,” said Bruce. 

“We won’t,” said Tony, “JARVIS, look through social. Weed out the chaff.”

“Is that allowed?” asked Bruce.

“You really have been off the grid for a decade. This is one of the first things we look at.”

“I’ve narrowed it down to eighteen,” said JARVIS. “How do you feel about people who write fan fiction?” 

“About us?” asked Bruce.

“About Cop Dogs,” said JARVIS.

Bruce paused, “Sexual?”

“No,” said JARVIS. “And, actually, it’s all grammatical.” 

“That’s fine, keep them in the mix; it’s useful to have a writer for papers.”

“I love that you want to publish here,” said Tony. “Because most people approach being corporate as being completely separated from research and academia.”

“Would you like me to scan by publishing history?” asked JARVIS. “How many they’ve written verses being the Principle Investigator.”

“That’d be great, please.”

“You’re down to twelve,” said JARVIS.

“I can read twelve.” Resumes came up on all his screens. He started to go through them, comparing them he said, “JARVIS, you are damn good at your job. Call in these nine, see if they’re still interested in working here. A couple of them sent in the application a year ago. Set up interviews that work for them.”

Tony snorted, “It’s a job on the top research floor at Stark Industries reporting directly to Dr. Bruce Banner. They’re interested, and they’ll have interviews at two in the morning if you want them to.”

“I prefer people to be relaxed during interviews. You generally get better results… of course, the last time I interviewed people, I was looking for grad students as assistants.”

“Would you like me to set them up for today? To take your mind off your blood tests?” suggested JARVIS. 

“If they can, but they might not be able to. Tell them to turn up in jeans or whatever they’re most comfortable in. I’m not putting on real pants. I see no reason that they should wear ties or heals if I’m not even going to wear something with a fly. And tell them they don’t need a resume unless it’s changed since they applied.” 

After a few minutes, JARVIS said, “Dr. MacTaggert can come in in an hour.”

“Great,” said Bruce. He stared at the blood sample and said, “Talk to me.”

“I convinced Win not to swallow toothpaste by telling him it would turn his teeth brown,” said Tony.

“And this relates to blood tests and job interviews how?”

“Oh, it’s not a parable, I’m just trying to distract you. Did you know I met Rhodey when I was fourteen? He was eighteen; we were freshman roommates. He had two loving parents and a normal middle-class upbringing; I was raised by one of the richest men in America and his very obedient wife. He played sports; I ran a betting ring. He dated; I was fourteen. Science was where we clicked, the lab, experiments, checking each other’s math. That’s how the science bros started. We were best friends and had literally nothing in common. I think he still views me as his irritating younger brother. He lets me get away with all sorts of shit that Pepper and Hap would never put up with. That’s what the science bros are: people who only have science in common but adore each other. And now, I guess, four of us are superheroes. But, let’s face it, I haven’t done anything super in a long time.”

“You flew a nuke into a hole not too long ago,” said Bruce.

Tony seemed to physically bat that idea away. “I wanted to be a full-on superhero. I wanted that so badly, to make up for all the damage my weapons have done to the world. But, Win only has one daddy. And so I hung up my metaphorical cape before I had ever really gotten started. Win will tell you: only safe Iron Manning, no bravery.”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of bravery.”

They shot the shit until JARVIS said, “Dr. MacTaggert is in the lobby, Dr. Banner.”

“Thanks, J.” He smiled at Tony, “Thanks for distracting me, beautiful.”

“Any time, handsome,” said Tony. 

Bruce went down, transferring elevators and walking into the lobby in his sweats. He saw a woman in a cute top and jeans. He smiled, “Dr. MacTaggert, thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

The woman spoke with a Scottish accent, “When you get an invite to Edwin Tower, you just go.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you. I screamed at my staff and had to give them the day off. Tony pointed out that what I need is direct reports who I like who can shout at the staff for me and actually be great.”

“I saw on the TV, the laser. If you can machine the parts and casing, let the laser cool for ninety-six hours and get new leveled mirrors you can maybe salvage it,” she said.

“That is the current plan. Please, come with me up to the lab, and we’ll have a chat.” He showed her to the elevators, and, as they switched to the next car, he said, “Lots of different security clearances. If you are offered a job here, there is an intense background check. Is that okay with you?”

“I was arrested once,” she admitted. “Protesting.”

“Protesting what?” he asked. 

“Police brutality in Glasgow,” she said.

He smiled, “What’s the point of living in the free world if you can’t protest the bastards in charge?” The door opened, and Win tapped his way into the elevator. He was no better at tap than he was at ballet, but he was every bit as enthusiastic. “Hey, Win, I thought you were up in the dance studio.”

“I was, but Steve had to study for a test and Daniel in the pharma lab got a new kitten, and he has a video on his dad’s phone.” He looked at Dr. MacTaggert and said, “I’m Win. Who are you?”

“I’m Moira, I’m here for an interview.”

“With Bruce? He’s really fun.”

She smiled, “That’s good to hear.”

“You have a pretty voice. Where are you from?”

“Scotland,” she said.

“Nanny’s from England. Isn’t that close to Scotland?”

“They’re attached. Scotland is like Canada if England is America,” she explained. 

“Cool, I’m from Malibu,” said Win. “Do you have a little boy or girl for me to play with if you come to work here?”

“Oh, Win, buddy, you can’t ask that,” said Bruce.

“Why not?” asked Win.

“Because it’s illegal, because some companies will not hire someone with kids, especially if it’s a woman.”

“Why not?” asked Win, looking deeply confused.

Bruce said, “Because some employers, especially men, think that someone with children will be distracted, and they think moms are more distracted by their kids than dads.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re gross people who believe in outdated stereotypes that are mean, stupid and just plain wrong. Never be one of those people, Win.” He smiled at Dr. MacTaggert. “If you do have kids, and please, you don’t need to say anything, you should know that SI is the number three ranked company for parental quality of life. Tony’s angry he isn’t number one. The daycare is open six AM to 8 PM. Plus, we have very comfy cots for if something explodes in your lab. Kids leave daycare able to read and ready for kindergarten. There’s also unlimited vacation/parental leave. If your kid gets sick, you can go home, just get the work done when you can. Lots of people take lunch with their kids. Most parents with school-age kids pick them up at the end of school and then we have all sorts of clubs here, so their parents can hang out with them and help with homework and then kids can do science or knitting or crafts or whatever until their parents are ready to go home. And quite a few kids are in the labs. If your lab is safe and your kid is cool, you can have them where you like.”

“Daddy always says that the company’s policies are based on me and that it’s shameful that it took having a baby for him to realize how backward his company was,” said Win. 

He started to tap, and Bruce said, “Win, would you mind not tapping in here, please? It’s echoing.”

“Sorry,” said Win. “The daycare has ice cream once a month.” Then he added, “I want a kitten.”

“I thought you wanted a dog,” said Bruce.

“I want a kitten and a dog,” said Win. “But I have a Cleo. Do you have a pet, Moira? Am I allowed to ask that?” asked Win, looking at Bruce.

“I think so,” said Bruce.

“I have a cat, named Tom,” answered Moira. “He’s kind of a jerk. I love him.”

“Great name for a cat. Because boy cats are called toms and girl cats are called shes,” said Win. The elevator doors opened, and he said, “Welcome to the top research floor.” He tapped his way down the hall and called, “Daddy, I finished my lesson. Steve says I show promise.”

Showing Dr. MacTaggert into his lab, Bruce said, “I think seven of the labs have good kids attached. Most kids are in the daycare, but if you have a chill kid who isn’t going to break things or derail work, they can bounce between daycare and the labs. That is either a perk or a giant drawback depending on your view of how serious a lab should be. Coffee, tea, water, soda?” he asked. 

“Coffee would be great,” she said. 

“Cappuccino, latte, or regular? I can do a flavored beverage if you prefer,” asked JARVIS. “The machine can do absolutely anything.”

“A cappuccino would be great,” she said. “Thank you, JARVIS, right?”

“Yes, Dr. MacTaggert. I’m always here to help.” The machine made noises and clicked off, Bruce got her coffee for her. 

Smiling as he handed off the cup, he said, “So you have an MD, a Ph.D. in genetics and another in classical mechanics?” He motioned to the lab stools. 

As she sat, she said, “I had a hard time settling. I kept getting new questions and realizing I didn’t have the tools to find the answers.”

“Have you found them yet?” he asked. 

“No, but I’ve gone to enough conferences that, at this point, I have someone in my Rolodex that can tell me how to find the answers.”

“It’s been a decade since my last conference. Booze still bad, and the conversations awkward for the first fifteen minutes?”

“At least it’s an open bar,” she replied. 

He laughed, “Yeah. Look, you’re highly qualified. So the question here is if we would enjoy working together. I need someone who can deal with the people who work in this lab. They aren’t idiots, I just didn’t hire them, and it’s not going so hot. Can you deal with them?”

“Yes.”

“Is the fact that this lab is absurd and busy as hell a turn-off?”

“Are there any pets? I’m allergic to dogs.”

“No pets, we do have animal labs, but they are not in the top ten floors. Sometimes kids come in and want to know what you’re doing — if they can watch, if they can help. We have snack breaks, games, bets. We have three-minute dance parties. Some people don’t think that’s fun.”

“Sounds pretty fun to me.” 

“Good. So, hypothetical. The coffee machine breaks. It’s two in the morning. We’re on a deadline. We’ve kept the whole lab here. I’m off being a jerk somewhere, you’re in charge. What do you do?”

“I ask JARVIS if any of the labs on the floor have working coffee machines, if so, problem solved. If not, I ask JARVIS if Tony Stark is awake because he must have a coffee machine we can borrow. If he’s asleep, I get one of the lab staff to call a twenty-four-hour Dunkin’ Donuts and order box upon box of Box O’ Joe, and I’ll send whoever owns a car to go get it. All in all, it’s a two-minute detour for me.”

“Good answer,” said Bruce.

Win rushed in in regular shoes, “Guys, Daddy just told me it’s ice cream day in daycare. I’m going to get ice cream for Daddy and me do you want me to get you two them too?”

Bruce explained to Moira, “It’s those little cups that are half vanilla and half chocolate with a wooden spoon. I would like one, please. Dr. MacTaggert?”

“Dr. Banner was just telling me about the perks. I would love one, please.”

Win smiled, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Please, call me Bruce. We’re all first names here,” he said. 

“Then I’m Moira,” she said.

“A few more hypotheticals,” he said. 

After a few minutes, Win was back, and he said, “Can I help interview? Are you doing math?”

Bruce opened his ice cream and licked the lid clean, “Moira is really qualified she can totally rock the lab. We’re not doing math. We’re doing hypothetical questions to see if Moira would be a good fit for the lab personality.”

“What’s your favorite color?” asked Win.

“Yellow,” she said with a definitive air.

“Good because we don’t have a yellow in any of our betting charts. LEGO or DUPLO?”

“LEGO.”

“What do you do if there are only a few M&Ms left in the lab, but you’re the only person who knows?”

“I split them with you, and we act surprised when someone asks where they went.”

“I like you,” said Win.

“I like you too,” she said. 

“I gotta bring Daddy his ice cream,” said Win. He skipped out of the room.

“It’s too damn cute when he skips,” said Bruce watching him go. “So, say you have an unlimited budget in a lab that deals with other people’s problems. About eight hours a week, you have time to do your own research. It doesn’t necessarily have to be physics. What do you do?”

“I look into the genetic mutation that causes special abilities and see if there is a common thread. Homo Superiors are very different from Homo Sapiens, and they don’t have enough doctors, not by a country mile.” 

“Damn, that’s a good answer,” Bruce laughed. “I think we’re done here. You’re the first person I’ve interviewed. I have two positions and nine highly qualified applicants. I will let you know. It has been a real pleasure to meet with you.”

“I’ve never been to a job interview where I was told to wear jeans, not bring a resume and handed a cappuccino and ice cream.”

“All part of the service here at Edwin Tower,” he smiled. “I’ll show you out, you should hear from me by the end of next week.”

“Thank you so much for meeting with me,” she said. 

In the elevator going down, JARVIS said, “Dr. Banner, you’re next interviewee is here.”

“I don’t get ten minutes to write notes?” he sighed. 

“I have all the data in my banks, you can review it later.” 

He smiled at her, “No rest for the wicked.” 

He didn’t like the next two interviewees. One got irritated by Daniel coming in to show them his kitten on his dad’s cell phone. The other was clearly annoyed by Win wanting to know his favorite color. After they left, he had an hour to kill and went to Tony’s lab. “I didn’t like the last two,” said Win.

“Nor did I,” said Bruce. “They are all very qualified, but this is about personalities. If that doesn’t click, they can’t be a buffer between my staff and me.”

“If you hate your staff, we can trade. They are good; they just did something stupid. I don’t need to like my staff because I don’t let them actually be in my lab for anything but meetings.”

“I liked Moria,” said Win.

“Me too,” agreed Bruce. “I’ll find someone else to go with her.”

“You were budgeted for two people. If you find more than two, just get them all. We’ll find it in the budget. You need a happy lab, and I can reshuffle people.”

Bruce let his shoulders relax, “Thanks, Tony.”

He sent the rest of the hour looking at his blood samples, just watching them. The next interviewee was great, and she answered Win’s questions thoroughly, returning them and agreeing that blue was a great option but saying that she liked red more for the way it popped. After she left, Bruce said, “JARVIS, put her on the list.” 

He met the fifth applicant in the lobby. The guy was in a tee-shirt with a picture of a golden retriever in a lab coat and safety goggles captioned, “I have no idea what I’m doing.” Gesturing to it, the guy, “I just finished work; my lab thinks it’s funny.”

“That’s because it is funny,” Bruce assured him. “I’m in sweats, thank you for coming in after work; I appreciate it. Come up to the lab.”

They ended up having a good conversation over seltzers. Win came in in his new hoop dress. “Is it my turn to ask questions?”

“Sure, come on in,” said Bruce. 

Win came and clambered into an empty lab stool and said, “Y’gotta be careful sitting in a hoop because it can flip up so you can’t see, and people can see your downstairs. I’m Win, who are you?”

“Matthew.”

“I like your shirt. It’s a cute dog. What’s your favorite color?”

“Pink,” said Matthew.

“Good choice,” said Win thinking about it. When he had finished his battery of questions, he said, “Great. The interview is over; we’ll get back to you in two days.”

Bruce, “The interview isn’t over and don’t promise people a forty-eight-hour response, you’re setting people up for a lot of nervousness.” 

“Okay, then you have the job,” said Win. 

Bruce laughed, “Win, don’t promise Matthew a job, I’m the person hiring.”

Win sighed, “I feel like I could pick the best team for you.”

“I know you would, but it’s my job.”

Win shook his head and said, “No one ever accepts the best advice.” He shuffled off the seat, “Bye, Matthew.”

“That’s Win’s fourth outfit of the day. Okay, hypothetically, you have an almost unlimited budget and eight hours a week to work on a side project. It doesn’t have to be physics-related. What do you do?”

Matthew thought about it and said, “I would create accurate, really fun, very affordable, science toys for kids. You get those expensive cool chemistry kits. And those telescopes that cost a hundred bucks for the cheapest version. Or there are the cheap, plastic junky kits that don’t work. There should be fun science kits that sell for ten bucks, and I would really like to figure out how to do that.”

“Good answer,” said Bruce. “I will be in touch soon. I have some more people to meet with, and then I need to think things over.” 

Once he had seen the man out, he said, “JARVIS, put him on the list, please.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.” 

“If Tony and I get married in the end, will you call me something better than ‘Dr. Banner’?”

“Absolutely, Doc,” said JARVIS. “Might I suggest joining the Starks upstairs? Sir and young Master Edwin are making homemade tortellini getting covered in flour might be better than watching your blood test. Your tests won’t show how quickly the substance will break down within your body for at least a week. It was a good ding, Dr. Banner, but it wasn’t the last ding. You told Sir you could kiss him in a week, but to be safe, it’s at least two months. Go cook with them. Just because you can’t kiss, doesn’t mean you can’t spend time together.” 

It was a good night, despite not being able to get clean blood. Instead, he cooked with Tony and Win and ate with the team. They watched The Rescuers in the movie theater — a family film to catch Steve up on history. Win fell asleep halfway through, lounging on top of Tony. Bruce went up to the penthouse, meaning to help clean up the kitchen, but he saw four cleaning robots, scrubbing the kitchen. He heard Tony down the hall, softly saying a poem and them coming out of Win’s room and closing the door.

Tony came in and smiled at him, “Hey.”

“I was going to clean up the kitchen, but your bots beat me to it.”

Tony shrugged, “I used to have so many staff cycling through my house. When I had a baby, I didn’t want thirty people rotating through the house every week, so I built all sorts of bots to help me.” He looked around. “You wouldn’t have liked me before I had a kid. It’s sort of funny, how much he changed every facet of my personality and life. You wouldn’t have liked me at all.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” protested Bruce.

“I was a vain, self-centered, party-boy who sought validation from strangers by buying their affection with money, gifts, drugs, parties or weapons. I worked sixteen hours a day, partied for five and slept for three. Then I would wake up at five AM and do all again. I was angry, I was sad and I lived off of caffeine, booze, Ambien and pills that strangers handed me. Does that sound like someone you want to hang out with? I didn’t even want to hang out with me, that’s why I did a lot of drugs and drank so much: I didn’t like me sober, but me out of my skull was more tolerable. Although, Hap, Pep and Rhodey would probably disagree with that. But, that didn’t matter, one would never ditch me, and two were being paid very well to stick around. I didn’t get help after getting maimed, I got help when he was in the offing. I built cleaning bots and cooler trampolines and all sorts of stuff the old me never would have. I learned to cook, I wrote bedtime poems, I remodeled my lab and installed a train track. There were never dance parties in my lab. There wasn’t laughing. You wouldn’t have liked me. Rhodey, JARVIS and the bots were the only ones who did. I had to make four out of five of my friends. You wouldn’t have liked me.” The cleaning bots put themselves into a cupboard where they were stored. One even reached out and shut the door behind itself. “You want tea or hot chocolate?”

“Tea would be great.” 

“So, how goes the search, handsome?” asked Tony, getting cups.

“Three people I like, so far. I have four more interviews tomorrow.”

“Maybe you’ll have a staff soon,” said Tony.

“What are we going to do with my lab?”

Tony said, “JARVIS, please pull up the roster of Bruce’s lab.” The list appeared midair. “Okay, rank ’em, best to worst.” Bruce could have demurred, acted like it was inappropriate, but it was only him and Tony. He quickly dragged names up and down the list. “Okay, and if you had an ideal lab, how big would your staff be?”

“Ten, the number of staff within my lab was always a bit overwhelming.”

“Could it function with only six?” asked Tony.

“Yes, I would farm things out to Randel’s lab more,” said Bruce. “Technically, I am his boss, so I could farm it out.”

“Cool, most of your research is going to be shut down for a week anyway because of the laser. So,” he swept his hand through the list, separating the top three names from the rest, “do you actually want anyone beneath this line?”

“I actually like Cyrus.”

“That will bring you up to eleven if you hire the three from today and all four tomorrow. That’s a possibility. Would you feel comfortable with that?”

“If I liked them all, yeah, it’s a big lab, we could make that work.”

“Great,” said Tony, “I’m poaching these two,” he dragged two names to the side. “JARVIS, let’s text Randel, Harris and Amy and get them on the phone.” They all called in quickly, and Tony said, “It’s draft day! As you know, we only hire the best but sometimes personalities clash. I have twelve people that we are moving out of Bruce’s lab.” JARVIS flashed up the numbers one through nine out of order. “I have a list of numbers, one to nine out of order. It’s going to decide your picking order. Amy, you go first.” They all picked numbers, and Tony said, “Okay, the picking order goes Harris, Amy then Randel. Here are the names you will be picking from. One name at a time.” They took turns nicely, and, after a few minutes, they were done. “Okay, is everyone happy?” They all were. “Awesome, I will bring them to your lab in the morning. Good night, everyone.” They disconnected, and Tony said, “Be fifteen minutes late in the morning. I will give a rousing speech about how great this is and how much better, happier and well run the labs will be with the new organization. You can do your interviews in the lab. I’m sure Win would like to help again. Is he a nuisance?”

“His questions are irrelevant to my interviews. I don’t care if they have pets or their views on the best toy building blocks. But the way they interact with him is actually beneficial. When they respond by asking him about Cleo, they pass that part of the interview. How long do you think he’s going to be into dress up?”

“Forever, it’ll just turn into power suits, expensive shoes and really nice ties. You never know, he might change the fashion world and invent business tutus for men.” He smiled and said, “I’m exhausted, and we can’t get naked, but do you want to cuddle on the couch and watch the news?”

Bruce smiled, “Sure, I would love to. Question is, crappy local news that focuses on a fire in Queens, the town hall meeting and the extension of the L line; terrible political talking heads or the world news?” 

“Local?” suggested Tony. “I’m too fried to think, I want to see, ‘Local Toddler Calls 911 and Saves Grandma’ not anything about the Middle East.”

“Thank God, I was making the offer, but I’m too tired for critical thinking.”

They settled into the couch and Tony snuggled into him. Bruce did an exaggerated yawn and stretch, putting his arm around Tony, drawing him close. Tony laughed and put his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “If my head falls into your lap, it’s because I’ve fallen asleep, not because I’m trying to blow you. I would, but I respect your fears about radioactivity.” Bruce chuckled and slid a hand under Tony’s shirt to stroke his stomach. “That’s really nice.”

“Is this a date?” asked Bruce.

“As far as I’m concerned, we’ve been dating for months,” said Tony, “which moments you consider dates is up to you.”

There were clips from the town hall session, and Bruce watched himself rolling his eyes on the TV. There were also people complaining about Subway disruptions and a three-legged dog that could skateboard, and Bruce said, “I was promised a toddler dialing 911.” 

“I feel like the news delivered better than I was expecting, honestly,” said Tony. 

Bruce turned and kissed Tony’s cheek, “I’m off to bed.”

“Thank you for cuddling.”

“My pleasure, beautiful,” said Bruce. He hugged Tony before standing up and stretching. “Sleep well.”

“You too, handsome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone says anything in the comments, you absolutely can take a goldfish to a veterinarian. They can treat goldfish. Goldfish can live a long time when cared for. My goldfish Othello and Desdemona lived for about 12 years. But, I’m sure that Cleo was just dead, floating about, and Tony was like, “Gee, that’s one sick goldfish. But, don’t worry, Win: a doctor will fix her.” 
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts, and how you are doing, in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

Tony cleaned up the cups and then tidied the toys that had been scattered between the living room and Edwin’s bedroom, he dropped them over the banister, letting them hit the ground. He didn’t bother more than that. Edwin would bring them back to the playroom in the morning. “JARVIS?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“I want to marry, Bruce,” said Tony.

“He really is a very nice man,” agreed JARVIS. Tony walked toward the master bedroom, lights going out in his wake. He looked in on Win, saw he was dead to the world and quietly shut the door. 

In his room, he stripped off and showered fast, too damn tired to do much except wash his hair and jerk off, thinking of Bruce pretty face and his teeth. He came with a groan and said, “God, I hope he wrecks me.”

JARVIS laughed, “Sir, what will you do if you and he are not physically compatible?

“I can top. You know me, J, I’m flexible. Literally. But I don’t get that energy off of him.”

“I know you’re flexible, Sir, that’s not the question: what if it’s bad sex? It’s a possibility you have to consider and, if you don’t talk about it with me, who can you talk to? You need contingencies.”

“If it’s bad sex, we can work through it. And maybe we won’t even notice. I haven’t gotten laid in five years; for Bruce it’s been almost a decade. Getting off with someone in the same room is going to be novel. Maybe that will be enough. If it’s really terrible, I know we’re great at cuddling. Although, that probably won’t be enough for a guy who has been toxic for a decade. Whatever, I’m great in bed, I’ll make it work. I just want him to wreck me; let me fantasize about that.” 

“I’m sure you won’t be able to sit for a week, and you’ll have all sorts of bruises you can’t explain to Master Edwin when he gets in the shower with you.”

“Thank you, JARVIS. Remember when I used to be slutty, and you used to get all sorts of free live porn?”

“And I shall soon be getting it again, my cup runneth over with joy. As far as visuals go, I enjoy watching pillow fort construction more than sex and prefer the sound of bedtime poems and giggling to the odd noises you make during sex.”

“Hey,” protested Tony.

“Not you specifically, Sir, humans. Humans make odd noises during sex.”

Tony chuckled and turned off the water, “And on that note.” He brushed his teeth and dried off, saying, “Night, J,” he said, climbing into bed. 

JARVIS murmured his goodnights, and the next thing he knew, he heard, “Daddy, is it morning time? ‘Cause I’m hungry.”

“J?” asked Tony.

“It’s almost six.”

“It can be morning,” said Tony. He cuddled Edwin close.

“Daddy,” Edwin whined, “you gotta open your eyes for it to be morning time.”

Tony groaned, “Five minutes, please.” 

“One minute?” asked Edwin.

“Three minutes,” Tony compromised. 

“JARVIS, please set a timer,” said Edwin.

When Tony opened his eyes, it had been much more than three minutes. “JARVIS? Where’s my baby?”

“Clint asked if he could have some milk. I suggested to Master Edwin that he ask Clint to make him breakfast. Clint is cooking now.” 

Tony rolled out of bed and pulled on sweats before heading out to the kitchen. Edwin was sitting naked on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Clint had his back turned and was cooking, “Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.” Clint didn’t react.

He got there, and Edwin said, “Daddy, did you know Clint has hearing aids? He broke one this morning, and he had to take the other one out because it was giving him a headache.”

Clint turned to them with a plastic plate of French toast. “Hey, Tony.” It was loud, and Tony made a hush sign. “Sorry,” said Clint at a reasonable volume, “I’m over eighty percent deaf right now.” Tony signed that it was okay. “I had no idea that you guys knew sign.” Tony signed back that babies could sign before they could speak. “And you, being a chatterbox, taught your baby how to talk before he could talk.” Tony gave him a thumbs up. “And you guys stuck with it.” Tony signed, back saying he wanted Win to be able to speak with as many people as possible. “Very cool, very cool.”

Edwin was tearing the French toast apart with his knife and fork. He didn’t have the dexterity to cut properly, but he was making an effort. Tony watched, making sure the pieces were small enough that Edwin wouldn’t choke on anything while still allowing him his autonomy to cut up his meal. Tony nudged him, and Win looked up, “Oh.” He signed his thanks.

“You’re welcome,” said Clint before turning back to the stove. “In the shower, after my run, I washed my hair, and I tried to shake some water out of my ear. It fell out. I picked it up and accidentally folded it and, when I tried to unfold it, I ripped it. I’m really sorry.” Tony went to the coffee machine and touched Clint’s arm. He signed that it was okay and reminded him that there were other prototypes in the lab. He didn’t know how to say “prototype,” so he spelled it with his fingers. “I’m embarrassed.” Tony shook his head and signed that, as it was his invention, it was his fault. “That’s right, way to give me shoddy one-of-a-kind technology that you developed specifically for me.” He smiled and handed Tony a plate of French toast. Tony signed his thanks. Once Clint made himself a slice, the three of them sat eating together and chatting with hands and words. “Do you know any other secret languages?” asked Clint.

Edwin signed that he knew some Russian and some Spanish. Natasha came in, and Edwin smiled, “Dobroye utro, Tetya Tasha.”

“Is it Russian day?” asked Natasha with a smile. 

Speaking and signing, Edwin said, “We’re doing ASL. I told Clint I know Russian, too.”

She smiled and signed to Clint, asking if he had broken himself.

“I am fine, I broke my aid, wearing one messed up my balance and I couldn’t find the batteries for my backups,” he explained. He switched to Russian and said something that made the others laugh. 

“Hey,” said Tony, “not fair, I don’t get to be in on the joke.”

“That’s kinda the joke, Daddy,” said Win.

“Nat, you want French toast?” asked Clint. She signed “please,” and he went back to the stove. 

“It’s really good French toast, Aunt Tasha,” said Edwin.

“I know, Clint’s really good at it. One time, we had to stay in a tiny apartment for sixty-two days, not leave at all. And for some reason, Phil stocked our apartment with really basic staples. I mean really basic. And Clint made us French toast every single day with bread and eggs and shelf-stable milk. Honestly, it was the only good thing that happened for those sixty-two days. It was so awful. But Clint’s French toast made it bearable.”

Clint turned and said, “Did I miss anything?”

Tasha signed French toast and spelled Belarus. 

“Ahh, the best vacation ever,” said Clint with a big smile. “So relaxing.”

“There’s really nothing in our past that we remember the same, is there?” she spoke aloud as she signed. 

“Nope,” he popped the “p” as he spoke. Edwin made the signs for more and please. Clint shook his head, “You had two slices, buddy, two slices is enough for anyone.”

Edwin spelled out Thor and Steve’s names with his hands.

“But you are neither an alien nor an enhanced person,” said Clint.

Edwin shook his head and did the sign for tasty and please.

“I’m glad you liked it, but you don’t need a third. Tony, would you like a second?” Tony signed please. And Clint said, “I love that the three people who can hear are silent while the deaf guy is talking.” 

A hologram appeared in the air that read, “Agent Barton, Captain Rogers wants to come in, but I wanted to check how you feel about that.”

“Thanks for checking, JARVIS,” said Clint, “I appreciate that. But, I think Steve’s gonna be cool, and if he’s not cool, Nat will murder him.” He turned back to the bowl of eggs and got more bread. 

Steve came in and said, “Morning, everyone.” 

“Morning, Steve,” said Edwin. 

“Morning, I wasn’t sure you were here up: JARVIS said he had to see if you were in for guests.”

Tony smiled, “He was checking to see if Clint was willing to feed a man who needs more than two slices of French toast.”

“Oh, Clint, it’s okay, you don’t have to, I just got back from my run and wanted some company. Win and Tony are usually awake, and everyone else is usually still exercising.” Clint, of course, didn’t react. Steve looked confused. 

Clint put the bread in the skillet and turned to them, “In a couple of minutes, that’ll be ready. Morning.”

“I didn’t mean to put you put you to work,” said Steve. “I’d be perfectly happy with toast.”

Clint thought for a few seconds and then said, “It’s no problem. I can’t hear you right now. As I’m lip reading, I might be slow to respond. Do you know ASL?”

“ASL?” asked Steve. 

“American Sign Language,” said Edwin, signing as he spoke. “It’s a way of talking when someone can’t hear. Do you know it?”

“No,” said Steve. Then slowly, he spoke, facing Clint, “Are you okay? Were you injured?”

Clint squinted at his face, clearly having a problem, “Are you over-enunciating or speaking too slow?”

“Yes,” said Steve, still speaking slowly. 

“At the very best of times, I can catch about a third of what you’re saying while lip reading. The rest is guesswork don’t make it harder by changing how your mouth moves.”

“Sorry,” said Steve. 

The hologram popped up, “He asked if you’re okay and if you had been injured.”

“I was in an explosion when I was sixteen,” said Clint. “I accidentally destroyed one of my aids this morning in the shower, and I’m better off with both ears out of commission than getting dizzy from hearing only one side. Tony has a couple of other prototypes in the lab. But, as everyone up here knew ASL, it wasn’t a pressing matter.” 

“Sorry, I ruined the party,” said Steve honestly.

Clint watched his mouth and said, “It’s real easy to miss sarcasm when you can’t hear. But it’s you, so I will assume you’re earnestly apologizing for having the gall to seek out company. Relax, man.” He turned back to the stove and said, “Tony and Nat, yours are ready. Plate, please, Tony.” Tony held out his plate with one hand as he got another from the cupboard. “Thanks,” he slid the other two onto the other plate. “Steve, how many?” Steve held up four fingers, and Clint smiled, “Turn your palm toward you.” Steve did as told. “There you go. Four coming right up.” He put more bread in the skillet. 

With his back turned, Edwin said, “Clint won’t let me have more. He said only enhanced and alien people are allowed more than two slices.”

“Well, my stomach is much bigger than yours, and my body burns food faster,” said Steve. “Before Clint turns around, how do I say thank you in ASL?” Edwin showed him. Steve repeated the motion and said, “Thank you.” 

When Clint turned back with Steve’s plate loaded, Steve motioned his thanks. “You’re welcome, man. Do we have a thing today?” 

“I have VA doctor and meetings until 1 PM. Then I have to study then at four Bruce should be done and then yes, we do have a team thing, fake combat. Phil too.”

Clint watched him and, after a few moments, said, “Cool, sounds fun.”

“Daddy, Nanny and I are going to school for dinner.” Edwin signed as fast as he spoke. “It’s been too long since Daddy and Logan got to play together. And Nanny is friends with Charles. I get to have a playdate, ’cause we’re gonna go right when Daddy is done in the lab and fly up to Westchester.”

“Very cool,” said Clint. 

They chatted, teaching Steve pieces of sign. “JARVIS?” he asked, always seeming to check if JARVIS was in the room before starting a conversation. He spelled out JARVIS’ name with his hands. 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Would you be able to make me a program to teach me ASL? Because, if I rely on this lot, I’m gonna know nothing but visual puns and breakfast foods.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, signing his thanks as well.

Tony looked at the hearing aids and signed and spoke. “When did you last clean these?”

“I wear them in the shower,” said Clint.

“That’s all?” asked Tony. 

“I was told they were indestructible,” Clint replied.

“If you wash them every other week,” said Tony. “Jesus Christ, Clint. You haven’t washed them in fourteen months? Of course it fell to pieces in your ear. We haven’t finished the dog-proof ones, but I have exact replicas of these. I wondered how one became weak enough to rip, but it’s because it’s never once been washed of corrosive sweat. Wash them every two weeks.”

JARVIS flashed up words, “May Agent Coulson come in?”

“Yes, JARVIS, that’s fine. Thank you for checking, but Phil knows I’m deaf. He’s just gonna mad about me damaging tech.”

The elevator opened, and Edwin said, “Phil, it’s totally not Clint’s fault that he ripped his hearing aid. He didn’t know he had to wash it.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t washed out your ears in over a year?” asked Phil, looking to Clint as he signed.

“Shut up,” said Clint. “Y’want French toast?” Phil signed the request, not aloud, and Clint smiled, “Coming right up.” 

Before he could turn, Edwin signed, “Does he get two or four?”

Clint smiled and signed back and spoke, “He gets two, silly. Only Thor and Steve get four.” He winked at Edwin with a smile before turning back to his skillet. 

“I have to go get dressed and head down to the lab.”

“It’s early, Daddy,” said Edwin. Usually, Tony rocked up to the lab at nine or ten. Most people got there right after dropping off kids at school around eight. 

“I know, I gotta reorganize Bruce’s lab.”

“Like move stuff around?” asked Edwin. 

“People, I gotta transfer some people around so that people Bruce hires have people have bench space. Why don’t you hang out with the Avengers or go pick out outfits in your playroom? J will tell you once I’m ready to play. Pick up your toys downstairs, please.”

Edwin said, “I have a building project in the playroom. I’m gonna work on it.”

“What is it?” asked Tony. 

“Surprise,” said Edwin. 

“J, should I be concerned?” asked Tony.

There was a pause, and JARVIS said, “There is a twenty-one percent chance Master Win may break a bone. But he’s worn his helmet, and it won’t be his skull or spine.”

Tony sighed, “Can I see it once you’re done?”

“Yep,” said Edwin with a smile. He signed his thanks to Clint and then said, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth!” 

He ran off, and Steve turned to Tony, “JARVIS just told you your child may break a leg.”

“Yeah, but not his head,” said Tony. “He’s allowed to live his life.”

“You’re not concerned?” asked Steve. 

“My kid is allowed to live his life,” Tony said firmly. “If it’s caused by an adventure instead of a malicious act, he’s allowed to have an adventure.” He heard fast feet on the stairs. “No running on the stairs!”

“Sorry, Daddy. I was holding on!” Edwin justified. 

“Still no running,” Tony called back. He heard the feet going slower.

“He’s been having a great deal of fun,” said JARVIS. “He rigged up a very ingenious safety rig. It’s quite good, not perfect. He has a seventy-nine percent chance of coming out unscathed and with a neat new thing.” The last words were said sardonically and made Tony laugh.

“What is it?” asked Tony.

“A surprise,” said JARVIS.

Tony swallowed hard, “Tell me he isn’t building a circuit board to make me proud of him. Tell me I didn’t fuck up my kid somehow. He’s right around the age I was. Tell me I didn’t fuck up my child.”

“Sir,” JARVIS paused, “it’s supposed to be a surprise. But… you’re beginning to hyperventilate. He’s building monkey bars from the roof of the playhouse with branches to the trampoline and ball pit. There’s a rope ladder at the center of the room. The padded walls around the trampoline will stop a broken neck. He’s precariously high off the floor, and there’s sixteen-foot drop beneath him, but he is wearing his helmet, which has a spine protector. He’s building himself a lovely toy. He’s using a safety drill, goggles and a mouth cover from the dust. He designed it, measured it and got the fabrication units to build him bars with comfortable finger grips. He’s building himself a toy, and he’s not doing it to impress you. He’s just building it because he wants it.”

“God, he’s becoming a structural engineer. I thought he wanted to be a physicist.”

“He is in a home where he has access fabrication units, and he’s a clever boy,” said JARVIS. “He’s not an engineer. He is building a toy. He is actually back to wanting to be a racecar driver. Spending so much time around Dr. Banner has rubbed off some of the shine off of physics. As he grows to care about Dr. Banner as a person instead of an ideal, he’s regaining the love he’s always felt for racecars. He’s still very interested in physics, but he’s back on racecars and playing this week.”

Tony breathed out slowly, “Thank God. I just want him to have fun.”

“He’s been having a great deal of fun,” JARVIS assured him, “and I made him get Mr. Parker and The Dope-ass Fresh Prince to help with the ladder because his first attempt was not structurally sound. The rest has been solo work. He’s very proud of himself. He’s not doing this for you; he just wants monkey bars.”

“Good, good. That’s good. Good for him. Let me know if he gets injured?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll alert you before he even hits the ground.”

“Thank you,” said Tony. “I’m off to get dressed.” 

He went to his bedroom and brushed his teeth, washed his face, trimmed his facial hair and moussed his hair. He pulled on a clean t-shirt and put on jeans. The jeans had a rip on the knee. He pulled on his sneakers. “J, please tell Bruce I’m heading down and that he shouldn’t for a while.”

“Dr. Banner is in the kitchen, Sir.”

He passed the kitchen and waved. “J, get me Clint’s attention.” The lights flashed, and Clint turned in confusion, then he smiled at Clint and signed that Clint should come down when he was ready. Bruce was at the counter, and Tony said, “Morning, handsome.” 

“Morning, beautiful,” Bruce smiled.

“I’m going to go reshuffle people. Enjoy Clint’s cooking.” He took the elevator down and smiled at the door to Bruce’s lab, “Morning, everyone.” People smiled at him, but it was strained. “So, I know this hasn’t been a happy lab for a few months. I hired you. I know you’re brilliant. Bruce knows it too. But, sometimes, personalities and priorities just don’t click. So, last night we had a draft. Bruce kept the people he wants, and I spoke to the heads of labs. Everyone was very pleased with their staff picks. I know the people staying here might be a little wary. I know it’s been hard. Happy labs are good labs. Bruce wants you here. He will be hiring more people, but you are staying here because Bruce likes you and wants to work with you. It’s going to be a lot happier. Bruce already picked three people to join you. He’s interviewing more people today. This will be a happy lab soon; you just need to bear with him a little longer, and then it will be a happy lab. He wants it to be a happy lab, and he really is a great guy underneath the oil slick of anger. Just bear with him for a little longer. He is letting me talk to you because he’s not great at giving good news. No one is losing a title or esteem; we’re just shifting. So, let’s go through it.” He listed off who was going where, and he said, “This is going to make everyone have nicer lives. There’s little that sucks more than working somewhere rough. We’re sanding it down and getting rid of the jagged spots. We’re making happy labs.” As people left, he spoke to Bruce’s remaining staff, “This is going to be a happier lab. Bruce started interviewing people yesterday, he’s going to keep at it today. Just do your stuff. You’ll have a full staff soon.” Then he said. “JARVIS, tell Bruce that he can come and smile at his people. I’m going back to my own lab.”

He crossed to his lab and snapped his fingers, waking everyone else. “Daddy’s home, stop being so lazy.” Everything thing lit up. “J, what’s on the docket?”

“Board meeting at ten.”

“Important?”

“Not really.”

“Pep gonna be pissed if I ditch?”

“You know the rule: you’re allowed to skip four of the twelve. Is today, when Edwin is happily occupied, a day you want to skip?” 

Tony sighed, “I hate it when you use logic and common sense against me.”

“If you start your work on the new compostable solar panel now, you could be done for the day by early afternoon. Then you can just play with Master Edwin.”

“Good call, pull it up,” said Tony. He spoke to JARVIS, chatting happily. Clint came down to get his new hearing aids, and Tony said, “Just give them a wash every couple of weeks.” He drank coffee and danced as he worked. He heard Bruce talking and assumed he was interviewing people. 

He heard slapping feet in the hallway, and he heard Edwin ask, “Is it my turn to interview?”

“Sure, bud, come on in.” Tony saw Edwin pass the door in combat boots, a tutu and a bomber jacket.

“Fucking hell, my kid is cute,” said Tony. “When is our next photo shoot?”

“Next week in Malibu. And then the week after here.” 

“Love it; he’s getting so big.”

“Very grown-up,” agreed JARVIS. 

Tony ran simulations on the new solar panel, “Did I do it?” asked Tony. “Is it done?”

“It’s finally done, Sir. A complete compostable solar panel that requires no rare metals, plastics or any complicated components, easily assembled, easily repaired, and will break down naturally in the end without leaving trash on the earth all for a ten dollar price tag.”

“Y’know what we are, J?”

“Badasses, Sir.”

“Badasses,” agreed Tony.

“Mostly you, Sir,” said JARVIS.

“Yeah, mostly me. I’m the real badass here, but you’re a little bit of a badass.”

JARVIS chuckled, “Would you like me to send it to the R&D labs to see if they can break it?”

“Yep,” agreed Tony. He spun out on his chair. “Badasses.”

“Tony!” Bruce called out. Tony used one foot to push off the floor and had his chair spin out to the doorway. “You finally did it?”

“It took me three months to build the first suit in a cave without power. It’s taken me six months to build this.” He craned back in his chair, grinning. 

“Oh yeah, shame on you: it took you six whole months to bring completely green power to the world for cheap.”

“There were also eight months of just thinking about it.” Tony laughed, “It can power a light bulb, run a water filter and charge a cell phone. It’s not going to power a city.”

“No, it allows children to read after dark and stay in school, it lets people drink clean water, gives people access to the internet and long-distance communication. You are amazing.”

Tony nodded, “I’m a badass. J too, a little.” He grinned and managed to tip the chair too far back. He hit the ground and said, “Ow.”

Bruce laughed, “Okay, badass?”

“Fine, handsome.”

“Daddy, you want me to kiss it better?” asked Edwin, trotting to the door and tilting his head to look at Tony on the floor.

“Yes, please,” said Tony, righting himself. He caught Edwin as he ran over to hug Tony.

Edwin kissed his forehead, “Better?”

“Better,” agreed Tony, hugging him close. “So, are you helping Bruce hire people, or are you interviewing for a job in his lab?”

Edwin giggled, “I’m helping him.”

“How is it going?”

“I like the one he’s got in there now.”

“Cool.”

“You have your meeting today.”

“Boring meeting,” agreed Tony. “Y’wanna co-chair it with me?”

“Nope,” said Edwin. 

“I gave you life. You can’t even give me two hours?”

“Nope,” he repeated. 

“Ungrateful,” said Tony

“Yep,” he kissed Tony’s cheek and then managed to climb down Tony, even though Tony was still holding him. “I’m going to go patrol the labs until it’s my turn to interview again.”

“Okay, have fun.”

“Bye, Daddy,” he called over his shoulder, running to whichever lab he needed to visit first.

“Bye, baby.” 

“Sir, it’s time to call in.”

Tony groaned but did as told.

***

Win was bubbly, fun and distracting. Bruce thought it was good to be distracted. Every step that he cleared to have a clean body was so overwhelming for Bruce. He liked his lab now, having hired five people he liked. 

Then he had sat down with his lab scientists that he hadn’t fired and told them the question he had asked people about side projects and said, “Think about it. Come up with a side project that can be your passion when we don’t have projects. I want this to be a good lab. It’s just been a bumpy start.” 

That had set up a cascade, and now his lab was busy, cohesive and with all sorts of exciting side experiments on the go. At the moment, he was happy. But then SHIELD fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so we've hit the end of what I wrote. I thought I would have the next story all ready to go but epilepsy really slammed me for about eight weeks, throwing off my schedule. I will message anyone who comments. But, otherwise, subscribe to the series and you'll get alerted when it's up! I would love to hear from you in the comments. I hope you are all holding up.


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